


You Can Stop Running Now

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Forehead Kisses, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster of the Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow in the last year or two, Derek had become a person that Stiles turned to as often, if not <i>more</i> often, than anyone else.  He was a gentle guide for Liam and Scott, a soft huff of laughter when Stiles did something stupid, a head duck and red ears when Lydia praised him or Kira showed even the slightest amount of friendliness.  Derek was <i>pack</i> now, and more than that, he was a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Stop Running Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orangemarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangemarie/gifts).



> Day 1 of 30 Thankful Days, gift for tumblr user orangemarie.

Stiles ran through the Preserve, eyes flicking down to his phone every other second to make sure he was dialing the right name. It wouldn’t do to hit _Dad_ instead of _Derek_. 

His dad did _not_ need to hear what might possibly end up being Stiles’ last words. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he gasped in an undertone as he just barely dodged a low-hanging branch, twisting and bending just enough to avoid the tree, but still managing to get sliced across his ribs by the bush adjacent to it. “Fuck, fuck… Fuck!” 

_“Seriously, Stiles?”_ came Derek’s voice, the sleep-scratchy quality of it echoing oddly from the phone. _“You’re calling me at…_ Jesus. _One in the morning to cuss at me?”_

“Derek, Derek, Derek!” Stiles whimpered, pulling back the hand that had gone automatically to his side. His fingers came away warm and wet, which didn’t mean anything good. Not when you were just plain human. 

And he was talking in threes now, apparently. Which would have been mildly worrisome, if not for the whole, you know, _blood_ thing. 

Stiles skidded down an embankment, nearly losing his balance but still managing to be on his feet when the earth straightened out. 

_“Stiles! Talk to me. What’s–”_

“Chase,” Stiles wheezed, scrambling up the other side of the embankment. Mud caked his clothing now, squelched wet and gritty inside his shoes. “Big,” he added as he crested the top and nearly cried at the realization that he couldn’t just rest there a minute. “Big thing chasing me.” 

_“Where are you?”_ Derek asked, and Stiles actually felt the burn of tears when he heard the sound of an engine turning over in the background. 

A roar shattered the night, jolting Stiles back to his feet. “Preserve,” he shouted, because apparently the thing chasing him could track him easily enough anyway. “North end, heading toward the old house.” 

_“Jesus, Stiles. The house is gone! You can’t–”_

“The old tunnels,” Stiles explained, then just shoved his phone in his back pocket to allow his arms the freedom to pump at a faster rate in the hopes the action would lend his legs some strength. 

He was close. He knew he was close, he just needed to get– 

\-- 

Pain beat at the inside of his head, made his tongue swell up in his mouth just to better feel every bone-rattling beat of his heart in the very bones of his skull. It was syrupy-thick in his veins, like the pain was heavier than his blood, like it was forcing out all the good and leaving only the worst bits there to vibrate against the walls of his veins and crawl inside his heart to kill him. 

The world started spinning then, making Stiles let out a whimper that set his every painful inch flaring. A soft murmur began to soothe him before he felt a hard chest pressed all along his side. It was then that he realized that he was being carried. A small part of his brain screamed at him about the danger– 

_It’s the thing that was chasing you, Stiles. You’ve let it catch you. You’re going to_ die. 

–but he couldn’t help relaxing into the hold. It was gentle and careful; it felt… familiar, somehow. Turning his head, he buried it in the warmth of skin and felt a bit of bristly hair scrape across the skin of his temple. 

“Der'k?” he asked, trying to push the word out of a throat that only wanted to scream against the pain. 

“Shh. I’ve got you.” Derek’s arms shifted, gathering him ever closer. “I’m taking you to the hospital. I don’t know how bad…” 

A small sob broke free of Stiles’ restraint, and Derek’s hands tightened where they were clasped around his knee and shoulder. Fingers slipped beneath the cloth of his t-shirt and then Stiles sobbed again, his eyes filling with tears of relief instead of pain because with every heartbeat, the pain was flowing out of him, sucked away by the fingers that trembled against his skin. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice sounded thick, agonized. 

“Hnn. You… you don’t have to–” Stiles wanted to scream at himself to shut up, but he knew he had to make the offer. If he didn’t, he’d hate himself later because even with his mind drifting off as a result of the pain drain, he felt the complete _wrongness_ of allowing Derek to suffer any more than he already had. 

“Shut up, idiot,” Derek muttered, and Stiles could feel the way he stiffened against him. 

Stiles, finally able to move his limbs without screaming, lifted a hand and patted awkwardly at Derek’s face. “Shh, no growling. You’re much too pretty to growl.” 

A soft snort was Derek’s only response, and then Stiles let the puffy, floaty clouds carry him away. 

– 

Coming back to himself on his side in the glaring lights of the hospital was less than awesome, but at least when he darted his eyes around to find a familiar face, he saw Melissa and Derek talking softly a few feet away. 

“From the pattern of the bruising,” he heard an unfamiliar voice mutter, “it looks like a giant _hand_ smashed against him.” 

Melissa hurried over, sending a quick, worried look at Stiles before her face rearranged itself into a more professional expression. “The gentleman that brought him in said it was a large branch. They were walking through the Preserve–” 

“At this time of night?” 

“–and they heard a cracking sound. Apparently Stiles crouched when he heard it, which is why it hit mostly his shoulders and upper back.” 

There was a sigh heavy enough to stir the hair at the back of Stiles’ head before the unidentified man spoke again. “Well, Mr. Stilinski here is very lucky his boyfriend was with him. I’d hate to think how much worse this would have been if he’d been stuck under a branch that did this kind of damage. I want to keep him overnight for observation – well, the rest of the night, anyway – and as long as he passes the standard brain injury tests tomorrow, we’ll release him. If he starts to worsen, I want an MRI immediately.” 

Stiles could only blame the stiffness and pain for the fact that it took so long for him to pick up on the fact that the doctor had called Derek his _boyfriend_ … and that Derek, who could clearly hear him, hadn’t denied it. With a slow blink, he focused in on Derek instead of the medical conversation taking place over his bed. 

Derek was standing with his hands tucked in under his biceps, shoulders hunched like he was holding himself, bracing for bad news. His eyebrows were drawn down in the middle, forehead wrinkled in concern as his eyes darted back and forth between Melissa and the doctor giving her orders for Stiles’ care. His face was pale with worry, his lips compressed into a tight line. And he was… beautiful. 

It was a stupid thought to have, because _of course_ Derek Hale was beautiful. All the Hales had been beautiful, but the thing about Derek was that it had always been relatively easy to ignore the blatant, in-your-face overwhelming hotness of Derek because his personality was so unappealing. 

But then… something had changed. Somehow in the last year or two, Derek had become a person that Stiles turned to as often, if not _more_ often, than anyone else. He was a gentle guide for Liam and Scott, a soft huff of laughter when Stiles did something stupid, a head duck and red ears when Lydia praised him or Kira showed even the slightest amount of friendliness. Derek was _pack_ now, and more than that, he was a friend. 

Derek was a person who had clawed his way right up to the top of the list of people Stiles would take a bullet for. 

The revelation was enough to knock the breath from Stiles, and the sound he made had Derek locking gazes with him, the worry deepening on his face and in his eyes. In a second, Derek was at Stiles’ side, squatting down until their faces were just a handful of inches apart. His hand snuck up to cup Stiles’ cheek in a move that wouldn’t look weird to anyone standing around a hospital – except Melissa, who would know that it was more about the black lines instantly crawling up Derek’s arm. 

“Hey,” Derek whispered, his thumb sweeping comfortingly over Stiles’ cheekbone. “Sounds like you’re gonna be here for a little while.” 

“Damn,” Stiles muttered with a crooked grin, bringing his own hand up to trap Derek’s against his cheek. “Sure you can’t bust me out?” 

“Hmm, not a chance. Your dad would shoot me. Plus, I’m pretty sure this is your penance for going out to the Preserve on your own.” 

Stiles winced at the mention of his dad, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth for a minute before he dropped his gaze to Derek’s chest and confessed in a small voice, “I was visiting mom’s grave. Today is the anniversary and I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Stiles. Hey, look at me.” 

Slowly raising his gaze, Stiles nearly closed his eyes against the horrible, tragic understanding that softened Derek’s whole face. 

“Next time, just let someone know where you’re going. If you don’t want to explain it to anyone else, that’s fine. Let _me_ know. I’ll be there.” 

Emotion swamped Stiles then, locking up his lungs and making his heart beat triple time. But Derek was there through the whole process, thumb still smoothing over Stiles’ cheek until he was able to breathe again, until he felt like opening his mouth wouldn’t make the entire hospital crumble to dust around him. 

“Derek?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Not right now, because I might have a concussion and apparently the only human explanation for what happened was a _tree falling on me_ instead of a Yeti making me a human piñata, but… Tomorrow. Tomorrow or the next day or whenever I’m mentally fit,” he paused for that little huff of laughter that made Derek’s eyes turn happy and warm, “I’m going to ask you to go get coffee with me. And when I ask you that, I need you to know that what I’m asking for is a date. Like a date-date. Because I kinda want to kiss you, but I want to romance you first. Because you deserve some romancing.” 

Derek’s mouth opened and closed, his eyelids nearly fluttering with how often he was blinking in surprise. And then, just like Stiles knew he would, Derek ducked his head, his ears flushing red. 

“And it’ll be okay if you tell me no,” Stiles went on, tightening his grip on the back of Derek’s hand. “It won’t mess up what we have now. I only want you to say yes if you mean it. But I want to give you time to think about it, because if you say yes… Let’s be honest, here. It’s me. I’m overwhelming on a good day. If you say yes, I’m going to make you question that decision every day for the rest of however long it lasts.” 

Head still ducked, Derek lifted his chin just enough that Stiles could see his eyes. 

“I’ll say yes,” he admitted, his voice nearly too soft to hear. 

Stiles wrinkled his nose just as he noticed a blur of green coming toward them. “Jeez, dude,” he snarked softly. “Way to take the will he won’t he angst right out of it for me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he straightened up. “Give me a little credit. You look pitiful. Like a three-legged dog in his last day at the shelter before he goes through the door to the great beyond. Anyone would be swayed by that.” 

“If anyone’s a dog around here–” 

“Boys. Save the flirting for later. Visiting hours are long over,” Melissa said, all sassy professionalism. “I’m booting Derek out.” 

A strange look came over Derek’s face, one Stiles hadn’t experienced often enough to recognize, and then Derek leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead before he withdrew completely. 

“That’s not fair,” Stiles pouted. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek said, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re injured. On the good drugs.” 

Melissa snorted. “A saline drip is _not_ the good drugs. Now, get out of here before I call the Sheriff.” 

Even though it made the pain seep back into his joints, Stiles couldn’t help laughing at the look of unbridled terror that washed over Derek’s features at that not-so-gentle reminder. 

“See you tomorrow,” he called out as Derek tried to escape the room a little too fast. 

Turning at the door, Derek looked back, his lips twitching in a tiny grin. “It’s a date.”


End file.
